


Wandering Souls

by AngelOnFire97



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Renée Chrysos Midas Original
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOnFire97/pseuds/AngelOnFire97
Summary: Work in progress. HP Fandom. Mostly AU.The lady gifted by the gods to find the wandering souls who need her most.A lost boy thrown out from his only know family. Learning to live laugh and love again having been spurned by his society.He and his strange travelling companion, explore the world looking for more like them, but what else might they find.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a dream and loved the idea. I am kind of writing it as a HP Crossover with my own world, but might make it into an original. I have plans for a few chapters but we will see how it goes from there. If I give up, PM me about picking it up if you are interested.

Wandering souls

Introduction 

The lady pulled her cart down the old country lane as the people she passed gave her a wide birth and eyed her warily. It wasn't that she was particularly hideous or disfigured, in fact she was rather beautiful in an eerie sort of way. The people disliked her though for they held no trust for a woman travelling by herself, besides the fact that she seemed to disappear for months at a time without a trace. Her entrancing eyes also disturbed the small minded folk, for surely no natural eyes would dance and glitter between all the colours in the natural world?   
The woman has no mind for such small thoughts, for ignorance spread fear and distrust so she did not allow it to bother her. She skirted the edge of so many communities, that despite he radiant facade had acquired the name 'the hag' and cautious eyes and quiet whispers followed her wherever she goes.   
The lady, for that is what she truly must be, was naturally graceful even when hauling what seemed like an overly large cart behind her, like it was nothing. She was donned in the earthy toned clothes that all country folk seemed to own but was defined by expensive leathers cinched in at the waist that were worn but well oiled. Her hair, escaping the mostly hidden ornate silver pin, fell in loose waves, in a colour that defied definition. 

She was used to being an oddity for even in her own kingdom when power, money and magik, defined your person, they could not understand why someone from a family of such prestige, dressed like a pauper, in dull slightly patchy clothes and insisted on walking the world alone, instead of setting into a soul bond. For she was from a family of the old gods, called the golden wanderer by her kin and blessed with the given name of Renée Chrysos Midas, Ren for short. Unbeknown to most was that name and prestige were not the only gifts of the gods, for a well of magik swelled under her fingertips and her dreams were haunted with the cries of lost souls needing her help.   
And she was on a mission.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intro to a new Character

Chapter 1

Elsewhere in the Vexillum Kingdom, a young boy of 8 is thrown out by the scruff of his neck, emerald green eyes sparkling with unshed tears, peering through a birds nest of raven black hair. His bag came sailing through the air, landing with an unceremonious crunch. Narrowly missing the boys head. The whale of a man before him bellowed, "Get out of my sight you filthy freak and if you ever come back I'll kill you!" The plain woman beside the beast lay a gentle hand on his arm to temper his fury. They were not prone to having such open and hostile confrontations, but this was the last straw! "You are nothing more than a useless sewer rat, a burden on us since you arrived. We owe you nothing! Leave us now or risk your life." Came the nasal voice of the ugly spirited woman, no love was lost there.   
The boy snatched at the bag with crippled hands, scarcely missing having them trodden on once again. He barely held in a whimper at the pressure the small bag put on his shattered bones, and scrambled to his feet only to trip on his over sized baggy clothes in his haste. The fat man roared with laughter at the young child's strife, having given up on all pretences of caring, whilst the woman just sneered down her long pointed nose at him.   
Having struggled to his feet, the boy bowed his head in shame as curious eyes peered out of darkened doorways at the scene playing out before them. Whispers of "freak", "magik" and "monster" echoed in his ears as he slunk into the early morning shadows like an owl into the night. 

The boy trudged across the fields, past lone buildings, stopping to sip from the streams as he came upon them. On one of his breaks, a safe distance away from his old village, the boy stopped and took note of what was in his bag; a ratty thread bare blanket, two ends of stale bread, a half empty water canister with a hole in it and a small lump of slightly mouldy cheese. He quickly picked off the bad bits in the hope of saving the rest. His bones ached with badly healed injuries and his body cried out for rest and warmth. So far on his journey the child had been skirting about a mile away from the edge of a dense forest that lay at the bottom of a huge range on mountains, called the Perdita Semita Mons, roughly translating to Lost Path Mountains. For these are meant to be the mountains of the Gods, old and new, so very few dare to venture to the sacred ground or the seemly sentient trees that stand guard. It was these trees that the young soul was slowly meandering his way towards, eyeing them warily, lest some fearsome beast come charging out to get him. There was supposedly a maze of paths in the sacred forest and many who travelled them claimed to have seen trees move to block their path and the dead rise from the other side, but for whatever reason, the boy sensed they were calling to him. He felt as though the guardians of the old forest would shelter him, but he was hindered by his conscious whispering caution in his ear. 

As the dusk turned to darkness and the temperature dropped, the boy knew he would have to find somewhere safe to rest for the night, and the trees once again beckoned him. With a weary sigh he gave in to the need to find warmth and shelter for the night. He moved past a couple of rows of trees in the hope of staying out of sight. Having found one he thought he could climb even with his crippled hands, he hoisted his bag further up his back and scrambled up the tree, for even he knew it was not wise to stay on the forest floor at night. Having nibbled on an end of stale bread to stave off his hunger, tugged the blanket close around his shoulders and curled up like a cat on the tree branch, cushioning his head on his arms. Whilst not totally comfortable he thought, it was far better than this cupboard under the sink, when he used to get dripped on!

As the night wore on, dreams curled around the boy like a blanket of warmth, ice blue and molten silver eyes peered at him through the darkness and a shadow sung lullabies to him, but forever stayed out of sight. As the boy woke up, a voice like soft spun silk whispered to him, "Do not fear, for you will not be alone for long. You are a child of Magik and the Forest. You are loved Hadrian Silva Potter, and I hope we will meet soon."  
The boy woke feeling warm and content with hope in his heart, whispering a name he never knew but felt like it belonged. His name.  
"Silva".


End file.
